"Out," Cobaru said, though not unkindly. "Out, my darlings. I need to speak with our visitor."
Without protest, the women stood and moved through one of the archways leading into the rest of the penthouse. As they passed, ignoring Salim completely, he could easily see the bruising and tiny paired wounds on their necks—among other places.
Cobaru settled himself into the cushioned pit with a contented sigh, taking a place on the bench that ran the circumference. He leaned back against the ledge, arms spread. "Please, join me."
Salim did so. The cushions smelled like perfume. His sword proved awkward, and he settled for laying it across his lap, where it would be easy to draw.
Cobaru didn't seem to mind. "So Mubb sold me out, eh? You must have scared him terribly. The little corpse-rat knows his life is forfeit now. We had an understanding." He sighed again, this time with decidedly less pleasure. "Very few people in this city know my true nature. That Gerik Mubb is one of them was an unfortunate accident, and one I should have remedied a long time ago. But the man is occasionally useful."
"If it's any consolation," Salim said, "I can be quite persuasive."
"It's not, and I'm sure you can." Cobaru stretched, and Salim could sense the muscles beneath those black clothes, leaner and faster than any human man's. "And so, Salim, what do what you plan to do with the information?"
Such confidence. This was no down-on-his-luck necromancer to be bullied. Salim chose his words carefully. "You said you know who I am. So I presume you know what I do."
"You presume correctly." Cobaru flashed another fanged smile. "Salim Ghadafar, sometimes called ‘the priest who's not a priest,' and other, less complimentary titles. You work for the Lady of Graves, yet despite your robes are not yourself part of the church hierarchy." He raised one eyebrow. "You make people there nervous, you know."
Salim smiled back. "I know."
Cobaru went on. "A hunter with a direct mandate from the Spire, tracking down undead and those who otherwise seek to pervert or avoid the cycle of souls. Soul-stealers, ghoul-raisers, would-be immortals—the whole lot. Does that about fit?"
"As well as it ever has."
"And now here you are." Cobaru raised his hands from the lip of the pool, gesturing at their surroundings. "In the secret lair of the only vampire in Kaer Maga." His smile faded, and Salim found himself staring into eyes as cold and hard as polished stone.
"Tell me, Salim: Do you normally make appointments with people you plan to kill? Contact their secretaries and wait patiently while arrangements are made? It seems a rather poor strategy. Or are you so confident in your abilities that you feel it makes things more sporting?"
Salim said nothing. Cobaru watched him for the space of a few breaths, then continued. "I could have had you killed the moment I found out who you were, or even before that, simply for asking about me. Yet here you sit. Why is that, do you suppose?"
This time Salim answered. "Because you're smart enough not to underestimate me, either. You knew I'm attached to the church, and that unless I was terminally stupid I'd likely left your secret with someone else, ready to bring the whole of Pharasma's wrath down on your head if I failed to reappear. Which of course I have."
"Could be, could be." Cobaru bobbed his head and stroked his beard thoughtfully. "But have you considered the fact that I'm perhaps not such a bad person?"
Salim smirked. "No one with a manor this opulent has a clean conscience, Your Grace."
"Ha! True enough. But I make no claims to altruism, or to piety. Only that my soul is no darker than anyone else's in this hardscrabble city. I have my fingers in many concerns, both criminal and otherwise, and I make a fine living from both breeds. Yet I'm no monster. If not for prejudice against my race, I'd have no need to hide at all."
"Your restraint does you credit," Salim said, then indicated the doors the women had left through. "Yet I wonder how the parents of your playthings feel."
Cobaru frowned. "For your information, Master Salim, my companions are all here of their own volition. I fancy that I'm not such a hard man to look upon, but I'm not fool enough to believe it's my shining personality and talent between the sheets that keeps them. They're here for the money, Salim, same as any girl who ever made eyes at a merchant. Here they sleep on silk sheets, eat the finest food, attend the best parties, and never need worry about what rough hands might reach out from a dark alleyway. How do you think that compares with the writhing anthill they come from?" He pointed to the doorway leading out to the catwalk.
Salim found himself believing the man, but pressed on anyway. "And when you grow tired of them, or they grow tired of you?"
"Then they go their own way," Cobaru snapped, "with however much gold it takes to buy their discretion. I don't tolerate blackmailers, Salim, but I'm not a miser. What trades I make with my friends—and yes, I consider them my friends—are fair enough, in their way."
"And you're never tempted to turn them? To make them into something like you?"
"Of course I am!" Cobaru roared.
Instantly, the women were back in the room, loaded crossbows set to slender shoulders.
Cobaru breathed hard for a moment, nostrils flared and pupils stretched vertically like a cat's. Salim tensed, ready to throw himself sideways, but as quickly as it came, the moment passed. Cobaru waved away the girls, and they left reluctantly, staring hard at Salim. He had no doubt that any of them would have happily filled him with crossbow quarrels if he so much as reached a hand toward their self-styled lord.
"Of course I am," Cobaru said again. This time his voice was smooth. "You think it's comfortable, living as long as I have, watching your friends come and go? For a while I associated primarily with elves, people who could understand how the people down there"—a gesture at the floor—"bloom and wither like flowers to me. But the fair folk have little love for this city, and too many long-lived friends are a liability. Do you understand"
"Better than you might imagine," Salim replied.
"This place is a cage." Cobaru said, waving a hand at his lavish surroundings. "Gilded, to be sure. But still a cage." He stared around for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, then breathed out hard and seemed to let it go, refocusing on Salim.
"So now that we've revealed ourselves," the vampire said, polite as ever, "perhaps you'll be so kind as to tell me why you're here."
It was the opening Salim had been waiting for.
"Corpses," he said.
"Corpses?"
"Corpses." Salim smiled. "Particularly those pulled from rivers or trash piles on the south side of the city."
Cobaru stared at him for a moment. Then he threw back his head and laughed, full-throated.
"Amazing!" he shouted. "After all this—revealing my secret, nearly forcing me to open your veins in self-defense, threatening to disrupt the whole delicate balance of power in this city—you want to know about the street children I pay to dredge bodies from the river, at coppers a corpse."
"I need to know anything you can tell me about their origins," Salim said. "Who they were. Why they were killed."
"I see. And in exchange, you offer what?"
"Your secret." Salim leaned forward. "You seem decent enough, Cobaru. For what you are."
"Undead." Cobaru's bared teeth were a challenge.
"Rich," Salim countered, and smiled. "Understand: if I were here under other circumstances, my hands would be tied. As it is, regardless of what the Pharasmins preach about the natural way of the multiverse, I don't give a rat's ass about undeath except so far is it hurts other people. Before I came here, I asked around. I watched your servants on the way up. None of them were mind-controlled. None of them were scared. You use people, but you pay your debts. Which is more than can be said for most men in your position." He sat back against the edge of the pillow pit. "There are vampires in every city, Cobaru. If you happen to drink blood as well, it's none of my business. This time."
Cobaru clapped his hands. "Well said! Shall we drink o
n it?"
Once again, a silk-robed servant appeared in the doorway, as suddenly as if she'd been waiting just around the corner. This one was a coffee-skinned beauty with short henna-reddened hair twisted up into a golden hairpiece shaped like a two-headed serpent. A silver serving tray balanced on one round hip held two clear glasses of dark red liquid which swayed as she made her way across the room.
Cobaru accepted the glasses and held one out to Salim.
"Ah..." Salim said, then reluctantly reached out to take the glass.
Cobaru chuckled. "Relax. It's only wine." He took a sip and made an appreciative noise. "Blood is a meal, not a drink. And besides, who wants to drink blood out of a glass?" He looked up at his servant, standing over him at the edge of the pit. She smiled with genuine warmth and stretched out one long leg, robe falling open to mid-thigh. Cobaru took her calf and kissed it, eyes locked on hers, before waving her out of the room once more.
"Now then," Cobaru said. "As far as the corpses go, I'm—"
"My apologies, Cobaru," Salim broke in. "But I'm afraid that, as honorable as you may be, I can't simply accept your word. Not for a matter of such importance. Will you allow me to be so gauche as to cast a spell?"
Cobaru's eyes glinted dangerously. "You overstep yourself, Salim. I won't be bound like some common ghoul."
"Nor would I presume to try," Salim said. "The spell will affect only me, allowing me to hear any...misremembered details in your story."
Cobaru glared. One finger slowly swirled a drop of crimson wine around the edge of its glass. At last he said, "Do what you need to. Quickly, before I tire of this conversation."
"Thank you." Salim bowed his head. Then, softer, "For what it's worth, I like it even less than you."
Salim's hand rose to the amulet around his neck, feeling the cold of Pharasma's spiral inscribed on the black stone. He closed his eyes.
Truth. Such an ironic thing to ask for. The Lady of Graves might be the goddess of fate, yet when had she ever given anyone a straight answer, least of all Salim? The Lady told him only what he needed to know to do her bidding—and even then, usually only if he asked the right questions. The arrogance of it—of all the gods and their churches—stuck in Salim's throat. Yet he'd given up his right to refuse long ago.
Instead, he spoke a word and opened himself, thumb tracing the outer edge of the amulet's spiral. Like a sluice gate being opened, he could feel the taint of the goddess's magic running through him, cold and dark, flooding his veins. His head ached, his ears going numb as the essence of the grave filled him up with soil and worms.
Worst was the knowledge that the gate was only open a crack. Beyond that fragile dam, Salim felt the press of the goddess's power, the tide of filth waiting for the smallest invitation to rush through and carry him away.
He let his hand drop. Behind his eyes, the gate closed again, cutting off the flow of Pharasma's endless, grave-dark sea. He almost smiled.
A tiny victory, to be sure. But tiny victories were all Salim had left.
He opened his eyes. Cobaru was watching him with naked curiosity.
"You cast the spell as if it pains you."
"More than you'll ever know," Salim replied honestly.
Cobaru shrugged. "Personally, I prefer the studied magics. Wizardry has an element of control that appeals to me. But that's not why you're here. Are you prepared?"
Though the flow of magic had ceased, Salim's ears still felt numb and muffled. In the space between Cobaru's mouth and Salim's ear, there now seemed to be an invisible gap in which each statement was overlaid with another, softer sound. These ghostly riders were somewhere between words and the ringing of far-off church bells.
True, the voices whispered. True. True.
Salim was an excellent reader of people. His work—both his original calling, and this new half-existence under Pharasma's yoke—demanded it. Yet for all his niceties and apparent youth, Cobaru was a vampire, which meant that he was very old, and practiced in his deceptions. The spell would catch any lies Salim missed.
"Yes," Salim said. "I'm ready."
"Very well," Cobaru said. "I'm afraid that, despite your kind offer of allowing me to continue my existence, I don't have much to give in return. The children who watch the rivers and collect corpses for me are simply one of my many business concerns, and not a particularly profitable one at that. My people arrange for them to sell to Mubb and his ilk. They negotiate a better price than the children would get on their own, then take a percentage. The necromancers get cheap materials, the children eat, and the city's waterways stay clean."
"And all those children grow up beholden to you," Salim said. "A vast network of tiny ears."
"Just so." Cobaru tipped his glass in a salute.
True, the bell-voices whispered. All true.
"But you know nothing of the murders themselves? Who the victims are, or how they came to be in the rivers in the first place?"
Cobaru shrugged. "People die here every day, often by each others' hands. Unless it pertains to one of my business concerns, I have no interest in such things."
True.
Well, that wasn't surprising. "Still," Salim said, "you have the aforementioned network, and probably several more besides. You certainly learned about me quickly enough."
Cobaru smiled. "Some matters are more important than others."
"Of course," Salim said. "And since we're such good friends now, keeping each other's secrets and all, perhaps you'd be interested in following up on those murders for me. Finding out who's killing these people, and why."
A nod. "Fair enough. It's a small favor, all things considered. I'll set my people to work, though I can't guarantee an answer."
False. The word was sudden and sharp, as if one of the tiny bells had cracked.
Salim clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Cobaru," he said. "We were doing so well. And as you say, it's a small request."
Cobaru looked genuinely surprised. "What?"
Salim tapped the side of his head. "The spell, Cobaru. I can tell you're lying to me."
"What?" The vampire seemed honestly affronted. "I said I'd help, and I meant it. I'll send out word tonight, have my people ask around."
True.
Salim frowned. "So you did." Something wasn't adding up. "What was the other thing you said?"
"That it's a small favor?"
True.
"No, after that."
Cobaru shrugged and lifted his hands. "Only that I can't guarantee an answer."
False.
Curious. "The spell thinks otherwise."
"Then perhaps you cast it wrong," the vampire snapped. "I don't know what you're talking about."
True.
"That's not how the goddess's magic works." Salim made a placating gesture, but inside his mind raced. As much as he hated the Gray Lady, her magic hadn't lied to him yet. Somehow, the vampire could guarantee an answer. But as far as the spell and Salim's own people-reading abilities could tell, the vampire honestly had no idea what it was.
"Is there anything else you can think of," Salim said slowly, "that might be able to shed light on this situation? Anything you might have heard recently but not realized was connected? Any alternative ways of gathering information, beyond your network of eyes and ears?"
"I can't think—" Cobaru began. Then he stopped. Dark eyes widened. "No."
"No?"
"No." Throughout their little game of veiled threats, Cobaru had remained cool and fearless, a master manipulator secure in his own abilities. Now he looked like a caged animal.
"I won't do it," he said. "Out of the question."
"Do what?" Salim asked.
"I won't ask them." Manicured nails gripped a pillow so tightly that they tore through the satin, releasing furrows of goose down. The vampire tensed, ready to run.
This was getting out of hand. Salim stood and glowered down at Cobaru.
"Cobaru!" he barked, in a voice drawn from a parade ground long ago. "Yo
u will calm down and explain yourself. Now."
The vampire lord looked shocked. Clearly, it had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him in such a manner. He frowned, but the wide, panicked eyes gradually narrowed to indignant slits. He held Salim's gaze for a long moment, then waved for Salim to retake his seat.
Salim did so. He put on his most patient, expectant expression, and waited for the vampire to speak.
When he finally did, Cobaru's voice was weaker, but calm. "You know not what you ask for, priest."
"Then why don't you explain it to me?"
"Because you've already put me in danger once by learning my secret," Cobaru replied. "And now you're asking me to double down."
Salim held up his hands. "This isn't a market stall. We're not haggling fishwives. Either we trust each other, or we don't. As long as we do, you don't need to worry about the Church of Pharasma sharpening their stakes and blessing their water." He let his hands drop. "I'm not threatening. Merely stating that if you can trust me with one secret, you can trust me with two."
"Even if the second frightens me more than all your priests and their pointed sticks?" Cobaru's voice was bitter, but even as he asked the question he seemed to make a decision. He let out a long breath and leaned back against the cushions. "How much do you know about this city's history, Salim?"
"Almost nothing," Salim admitted.
"Then you're in the majority. Most Kaer Magans don't know anything about this place except that it's old, and they don't even really know how old. It's not a place that encourages questions." He paused. "Did you come by the river road, or up the Halflight Path, through the cliff face?"
"The path," Salim said. "The Duskwardens led me up."
Pathfinder Tales: The Redemption Engine Page 7
